


Damien's Day In

by Snorp_Lord



Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Damien just has a nice day at home, Just Chilling, M/M, he deserves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 03:31:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21092681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snorp_Lord/pseuds/Snorp_Lord
Summary: This is one of the cutest things I've ever written so please enjoy. Feel free to leave suggestions too!





	Damien's Day In

**Author's Note:**

> For a very lovely friend <3

Ah, a quiet house was such a rare, but pleasant surprise for Damien. Living with William was nice, but it could get...loud. And hectic. And bizarre. And-

Well, it was nice to have time to relax. Sat at the table with a pot of tea and a sketchbook, hearing the rain patter down, all while wrapped up in a cozy blanket. His usual suit had been left behind in favour of a loose cotton shirt and pants. For once he didn’t even bother to gel his hair, assuming he would have no visitors for the day. 

As his pencil idly scratched at the page, Damien wondered if Celine had taken a day off lately. Not very likely. He could only convince her to sleep by reminding her how much more efficiently she could go about things with at least a power nap in the tank. Thankfully her marriage to Mark seemed to allow her more free time to relax, but if the rumors were to be believed, she did as much work as the butler did for half the reward. 

To say nothing of the other rumors around the Iplier butler.

But honestly? So long as Celine was content (content as she ever could be as a trophy wife after her tastes of freedom back in the clubs) and Mark wasn't as paranoid as he used to be, Damien just wanted to believe, for one day, that things were as calm as they were going to get for a while. Calm like the lovely bluebird that had perched so agreeably outside his sitting room window. 

His sitting room. They had something much grander for guests downstairs, but it had never felt like home. Damien had ended up converting an upstairs bedroom so it was his. Homey and cozy like something out of a delightful paperback novel, corners peeling apart with age and pages yellowed, but still the same quaint little story within that fit in his palms like it had always meant to be nestled there. 

Since it was a day for indulgence, why not re-read it? It was his favourite story after all. A story set and meant for tiny villages with cozy cottages. Yet wrapped up in his worn blanket and shut up with only a few soft candles, Damien could pretend he was there. Perhaps he should go fetch it from his bedside drawer. Once he'd finished sketching the-

"Oh. You grew tired of modelling, little friend?" Damien smiled up at the bluebird from where it was now perched higher up, shaking itself off to be rid of water. "I know the feeling. We can't sit and be admired all our lives, yes?" When it chirped, he chuckled. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear we were talking, Mr.Bluebird." The rather cute name he'd seen in some other novel. Those stories were always his favourite sort. There was no beast to slay, like in something William or Mark might while away the hours with. The only animals in his stories were delightful songbirds. Leave the hunting to someone who knew their way around a gun.

"Well, Mr.Bluebird, I think I'll treat myself to some tea. I'd ask if you'd like a cup, but I don't think birds are very partial to tea. Another time, perhaps?" Again Damien chuckled softly, setting aside his sketchbook and charcoal. "At least you let me finish my outline. Just details left now."

A few staff members still roamed the halls, but Damien was very insistent that any day it was just him was a day to relax. He liked to brew his own tea these sorts of days. "Excuse me, friend." It almost made him sad to shut the door on his little room. At least he could be back soon with tea. A few records were kept in the kitchen too, so perhaps he could take one with him to play. 

“Earl Grey or chamomile? Chamomile would be good for having a nap later, but Earl Grey is so lovely while reading…” 

In the end, he made a mix of the two. It was disgusting, and didn’t drink more than a sip, but oh well. That didn’t make his book any less pleasant.


End file.
